


moments

by onlyeverthus



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:45:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5942530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeverthus/pseuds/onlyeverthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We do not remember days; we remember moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	moments

Don't leave now that you're here—  
Stay. So the world may become like itself again

 

 

They run hand in hand across bright pink fields, where the grass is dotted with little colored balls of fluff. He tells her the little balls are cotton candy and she collapses into giggles right there in the grass while he looks down at her, feigning a hurt she knows he doesn't feel before lying down to laugh with her.

On a planet half a universe away they crash a fancy dress party that you need a ticket or a rich relative to get into and all it takes for them is a quick flash of the psychic paper. He looks dapper in his tux, despite his constant admonitions that something will go wrong because he's wearing it. He's silenced only when she kisses the corner of his mouth, smiling as she pulls him out onto the dance floor.

There's a planet where the oceans are multicolored and she doesn't understand why until it begins to rain and she sees that all the drops are different colors. Their lips touch and the streaks of blue and purple and green rain make rainbows on their skin and in their hair. They catch several jars full of the vibrant water and suspend them from the ceiling in his bedroom and sometimes spend entire days staring up at the rainbow colored glass as they lie next to each other with their fingers intertwined.

They make love on his bed with the dark blue sheets and she gasps out loud at the pleasure delivered by his nimble fingers and clever tongue, pleasure so exquisite it is almost painful. He whispers things in her ear, words in a language only he knows but she doesn't need the TARDIS to translate for her, knows everything he's saying just by the way his lips brush against the skin of her neck and by the way his hands ghost over every inch of her body.

 

Every morning she wakes in a world where there is no pink grass, where there is nobody to dance with at the fancy dress parties she has tickets for, where the rain is grey and cold, in a lonely bed big enough for two but occupied only by one, and she mourns the loss of him all over again.


End file.
